


let me take you there

by emotikons



Category: iKON (Kpop)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Skaters, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 18:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2783414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotikons/pseuds/emotikons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>kind of a skater au. <a href="http://emotikons.livejournal.com/891.html">livejournal mirror</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let me take you there

"I think you're bleeding on my welcome mat," Jinhwan remarks when the door swings open.

Bobby's leaning hard into Hanbin's shoulder, head tucked at a thirty degree angle against his neck. Their longboards are propped against the shoe rack. Hanbin drops his eyes to the mat. Bobby grins, slow and easy. "Should see the other guy, hyung."

"You mean the ramp?"

Hanbin lets out a gusty whoof of laughter. Bobby shrugs, sagging further into Hanbin's weedy frame, and pretends to think about it. "There may or may not have been a ramp involved."

Jinhwan sends him a Look. Bobby just keeps grinning at him. The only way he'd look like more of a scrappy Labrador would be if he lolled his tongue out and panted. Hanbin straightens, hefts Bobby's weight a little, as if to say _I could stand here all night supporting this guy, but that doesn't mean I_ want _to_. Jinhwan shakes his head, shuffles aside, and says, "Come on in."

✧

"Idiot was trying to do a half-cab kickflip on a staircase railing," Hanbin says, after he deposits Bobby on the narrow couch in the living room and folds himself into Jinhwan's armchair. The king, holding his court of judgment, has come to find Bobby lacking. Jinhwan hums and flips his first-aid kit open. He's long since given up trying to decipher their skater lingo, but the reproach in Hanbin's voice gives the proclamation a little more meaning.

Bobby sniffs. "As I recall, you were very supportive at the time."

"That was before I remembered to account for _the rain_."

Jinhwan breaks their half-hearted glaring contest by lifting Bobby's shirt to assess the damage. There's an ugly purple bruise staining the skin stretched over his last three ribs, long and neat, running right across his torso in a straight line, as if he'd caught a pipe to the diaphragm. The staircase railing, Hanbin said. Bobby sucks air in between his teeth when Jinhwan reaches out to probe it.

Hanbin mumbles something under his breath that sounds like _serves you right_ but could also probably be _is he alright?_ Jinhwan almost snorts, but catches himself. "Pants off," he says, giving Bobby's stomach a perfunctory pat.

"Sure thing," Bobby says, somehow more cheerful than smarmy, and shimmies out of his baggy jeans. The ghost of a wince passes over his face.

A nasty scrape blooms across Bobby's left shin, right beneath the nasty scar he'd gotten trying to do a wheelie on Jinhwan's bike during his second year of high school. The blood's pretty much congealed by now, dark brown clumped up along the edges of the cut and trickling down to disappear beneath the tongue of his puffy high-top. "That'll never come out," Hanbin says, decidedly mournful.

"I'll buy you a new pair," Bobby promises. It cuts off into a hiss when Jinhwan starts sponging the cut clean. "Fuck. I'll never get used to the sting."

Jinhwan applies more casual pressure and raises a dispassionate eyebrow at Bobby's betrayed expression. "Maybe, in the future, you should consider making decisions that won't inevitably end with this."

He remembers Hanbin at fourteen, covered in dirt after a night out with his new friend Bobby-from-America, hobbling home from the skate park in Dongdaemun. Jinhwan had already been living with Hanbin then, after Jinhwan's mother decided that an education in Seoul would be better than one in Jeju and sent him off to live with a family friend. Bobby-from-America came a year later, an expat from Virginia, whose parents had decided to move them all back to the motherland. "It's not so different here," Bobby had said, watching Jinhwan unfold medical gauze for the first time. "Where there are people, there are places to skate."

"Shh," Hanbin said, keeping watch at the door of Jinhwan's room. "You'll wake them up."

Those were the days when Hanbyul needed a nap every two hours and all of Hanbin's mother's attention. So, out of necessity, Jinhwan got really good really fast at treating all manner of skateboard-related injury: kept the medikit stocked with thick cotton swabs and clean hand towels, tucked ice packs behind the chicken in the freezer. Memorized the curvature of Hanbin's shoulders, and Bobby's knobby knees, and patched them back together.

The one time he went with them—in third year, just to see what all the fuss was about—he remembers his heart caught in his throat as Hanbin teetered at the edge of a half pipe before gravity took hold, skateboard screeching against the cement, his shirt plastered to his skinny chest as the wind whipped past him. "We did good, right?" Hanbin demanded, after Bobby had taken his turn, flashed his colorful board, feet dancing as the wheels spun. Jinhwan had finally let himself breathe when they were both on the ground once more. "Yeah," he replied, ruffling Hanbin's windswept hair. "You did."

Now, in the dim lamplight, Bobby's grinning again as Jinhwan goes through the familiar motions of rubbing salve into his bruise. "But, hyung," he says, eyes disappearing behind the hood of his lids. "Where's the fun in that?"

✧

On second, more thorough inspection, Hanbin's got pavement burn on the heels of both palms. He tries to tuck them into his pockets but Jinhwan pulls them back out, sets Hanbin's hands face-up on his thighs and cleans gravel out of the broken skin before dressing the wound. Bobby's hobbled to the closet and gotten blankets for both of them by then, laid them out on the floor next to the foot of the armchair.

"Oh, come on," Jinhwan says wearily. "Take the bed."

"No way," they say in unison. Bobby strips down to his boxers and sits cross-legged on the lumpy comforter, shadow of his bruise inflating with every breath he takes. Jinhwan stares for a beat too long at the salve glistening over Bobby's abdomen. But then Hanbin catches his eye, shifting forward on the balls of his feet like he knows everything, and Jinhwan swivels on his heel, swerves into the kitchenette.

There's one more three-pack of ramen in his cabinet, and a couple of eggs in the fridge. He'll have to go grocery shopping tomorrow. He carries the hot plate out with the food. Hanbin's got the low-set table unfolded already. Bobby takes the pot of water and they watch it come to a slow boil, bubbling merrily. The rip of the first bag of ramen seems overloud in the tiny apartment. Jinhwan stirs with a pair of chopsticks, and when the noodles have separated enough Hanbin unloads the flavoring and cracks the eggs in.

"Don't burn your hand," Bobby advises, stretching his leg out and leaning back on his elbows.

"That was _one time_ ," Hanbin says, but keeps his elbows high, anyway.

By the time Jinhwan switches the hot plate off they're already digging in, heads knocking in their haste to inhale the ramen. Jinhwan waits till they're both chewing before bending over and stealing a bite. A little overcooked for his taste, but still—it's hot food. Hanbin and Bobby eat like they haven't had a meal in days, fighting over one of the poached eggs, yolk running down Bobby's chin before he catches it with his tongue. _Disgusting_ , Jinhwan thinks fondly, and chucks a box of tissues at his head.

Hanbin wins the fight for the soup. Bobby slaps him on the back when he's done, and Hanbin lets out a belch so loud Jinhwan can almost feel it in his chest.

He shakes his head and gathers everything to dump in the sink. When he comes back out, they're jostling each other in the bathroom, water running over the sound of their voices.

"Don't—" Jinhwan says, but it's too late. Four years and they still wash the salve off and undo their bandages too early. He sighs, eyes rolling toward the ceiling, and arms himself with the first aid kit again.

✧

Some way or another they end up rolled on the floor of the living room, slotted next to each other beneath the blankets like buns in an oven. Bobby's salty ramen breath hits the side of Jinhwan's face and Hanbin crosses an ankle over Jinhwan's shins, arm tossed up to curve above his head.

"The bed's just going to waste, you know," Jinhwan mumbles. The edge of the scratchy comforter slides down his nose.

"We know," Hanbin says, voice shot through with the deep satisfaction of knowing exactly what it was that brought them here.

A hand creeps up past Jinhwan's flimsy sleep shirt, splayed along the web of his ribs, and he lets out a drowsy snuffle. "Go to sleep," he says, inhaling sharply as another hand dips below the hem of his boxers.

Bobby's rebuttal, slurred with pleasure and ill-concealed excitement, is "Not tired yet." Neither, really, is Jinhwan. And this is the crux of it: no matter how long it's been since Jinhwan's last seen them—and the gaps are longer than usual lately, what with second year college coursework and the two of them attempting to get into university—they still know what he needs. They still know him like he knows them. Hanbin's going to add carpet burn on his knees to the concrete burn on his palms, but that matters less than being able to wrap a hand around Bobby's and get Jinhwan off together.

It happens faster than he'd like, maybe because they're so warm and so close. Hanbin clenches his fist tighter and Bobby's calloused thumb twists to rub right beneath the head of his dick. Jinhwan's spine turns into goo. He scrunches his eyes shut and lets his back arch and comes in their hands, thighs tense and quivering, heels dug in the ground, bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Mission accomplished, Hanbin's arm settles heavily over Jinhwan's waist. The blanket rustles as Bobby discreetly wipes his hand off on it. Tomorrow, Jinhwan will have to go get laundry detergent, too. As long as they're around, he might as well get them to come along.


End file.
